VS Ch. 04


My name is Kelly, and I used to be a lifeguard. This is the story of the day I lost that job.

I guess it was natural that I became one in the first place. I was a good swimmer, and I looked the part: blonde hair, nice boobs, long legs, filling out my uniform (yellow one-piece swimsuit) pretty nicely. My friends teased me sometimes, calling me "Baywatch", but it was all good-natured. Whenever I saw myself in the suit I had to admit they had a point.

The one drawback was that some people (like my boss, Mike) assumed that a pretty blonde girl couldn't possibly have any brains. As if everyone had a limited amount of good qualities, and shining in one area meant you had to skimp in another. Mike never seemed to give me a break. We all make little mistakes from time to time, and usually we fix them right away. But my boss never gave me the benefit of the doubt.

He didn't seem to treat the other girls so harshly, and they all liked him, said he was cute. I agreed that on the surface that he had good looks: bright eyes, strong chin, muscular, flat abs and tight butt... yet the way he was on the inside colored that impression for me. He wasn't handsome in my eyes.

All in all, everything else about the job was cool, so Mike I learned to put up with.

I was 20 years old, and going to community college. When classes were out, it was a pretty good life: work in the morning, then get cleaned up and go shopping, or see some friends, and think about where to go out that night. My beach was behind a reef so the surf was very gentle, and the surfers and risk-takers went elsewhere. In two summers I had never had to rescue anyone.

That Friday morning I woke up late, with just enough time to get my swimsuit and drive to the beach. My yellow one-piece, which I had hand-washed last night, should have been hanging over the shower curtain to drip dry. But it wasn't there. I was frantically looking for it when my little sister said she might have accidentally put it in the dryer. "It's not supposed to go in there!" I yelled.

I pulled stuff out into a basket, looking for my suit. Like I was afraid of, it had shrunk. A lot. I held it up in front of me: even hanging down flat, it was too small now. No way would it cover me in 3-D. I yelled some not-so-nice things at my sister, and Mom yelled at me. The day was starting out great.

Now I was in a bind. I had no other swimsuit. No store would be open at 9 am. I knew I couldn't skip that day, because we were short-staffed. No one to take my place. I had to show up to work; what was I going to wear?

It was getting late, and I had no ideas, so I just kept on what I wore to bed: an aqua blue tank top with a ribbed pattern, and gray fleece shorts. This was an ugly outfit, but I figured it should be a slow day and I probably wouldn't even have to leave my chair until Bernice came in to relieve me. I could count on her not to rat me out to Mike for not having proper attire. And the lifeguard chair was so big and so high, that from the beach people could barely see anything except my arms and head. So even with my shorts and tank, I would probably be OK.

I drove really fast, but still got to the beach five minutes late, bracing myself for trouble. However, there was only one blanket set up: a mom and her little boy, playing in the sand. If I was lucky, no one would ever know I wasn't at my post at exactly 9:00. I had never been late up to that point. Still, in Mike's eyes, I would become the ditzy blonde who was always late and lost her swimsuit... unless he never found out. I took off my shoes and walked across the sand to my chair.

It's a funny thing about the chairs we had: the guard had a great view of the water and a so-so view of the beach. But unless you were in the water, people on the beach really couldn't see much of me; the angle was wrong. With no one in the water, it was like I had the beach to myself. After the hectic scene at home, and the race to get here, I could finally relax.

The sun was behind me, and already pretty warm on my skin. I took out the sunblock and started doing my arms and face. With our one-piece suits, it was pretty easy to reach everywhere that wasn't already covered, which was essential when we were sitting in the sun for hours at a time. Because I was really strict with myself about protecting my skin, I would usually go through summer without much of a tan. Sort of ironic given my job.

I took a few deep breaths to really calm down; something my friend Felice had taught me. Now I was feeling pretty relaxed and all the stress was gone. It was a close call, but things were going to be OK. Just another routine day. And that was good.

The tank top and shorts covered part of the same area as the one-piece had, and in a few minutes I was done with the sunblock. No more people had shown up at the beach as far as I could tell, and still no one was in the water. Now there was little to do except wait and watch. There was an ocean liner a few miles off, and a stretch of low clouds at the horizon. The air stirred a little; barely a breeze. It was very calm.

The warm sun and sound of the surf were making me a little sleepy. I wasn't worried; people would soon start to trickle in and venture into the water. Just watching people have fun tended to keep my interest, and if trouble developed I would notice right away.

One drawback with my improvised wardrobe: the tanktop and shorts heated up in the sun a lot more than my reflective yellow swimsuit did. Usually it was only the hottest days of summer that we would need to drink extra fluids, or spritz water on ourselves to cool down. Today wouldn't have been one of those days. But the tank top in particular was getting uncomfortably hot.

Not that I could do anything about it; I was stuck here until eleven, when Bernice would spot me. I would take the buggy to the guard office and hopefully snag a spare swimsuit. But right now, I was stuck with my top.

Or was I?

I gave this a lot of thought. What if I took the top off? I wasn't wearing a bra. Not only was going topless on the beach not allowed, but I had never bared my breasts outside before anyway. The thought was a little scary.

On the other hand, basically nobody was here. In my guard chair I had extra privacy anyway. I would see anyone approaching before they could see me. If that was all true, then I should be able to take off the top for a little while, and I'd be able to put it back on before anyone could see me. Right?

This struck me as not only scary, but kind of naughty; but instead of dissuading me, that feeling helped convince me to try it. The more I considered it, the more it seemed like some innocent fun. Maybe after the summer I would tell Bernice what I had done that Friday morning. I sat up and looked around -- the coast (ha ha) was still clear -- and then leaned back, scrunching down as much as I could, and pulled my top about halfway upward.

An inch or so of the bottoms curves of my breasts were out. Now's not the time to chicken out, I thought. I lifted the top a little higher, up away from my chest now, following the swells of my breasts. I stopped just below my nipples, thinking, OK, this would be the time to turn back if I wanted to. But I realized that without a bra, my nipples had been poking against the thin cloth anyway. And what's the difference if no one can see me anyway? I took a deep breath and took the top completely off.

Wow. Instead of the hot fabric, which was making me perspire, there was just the pleasantly warm sun and air on my bare skin. It felt so good! The heat reminded me that I'd better put sunblock on the newly exposed areas, or I'd have one painful, hard to explain sunburn. I smiled. I had never sunbathed topless before, and now I was doing it, and getting paid $16 an hour for it!

I first did my tummy and sides, and then my shoulders and back, as far as I could reach. Just putting off the inevitable, really. My breasts, unused to being in the open air, I did last.

If just being out here topless was naughty, then imagine how I felt rubbing lotion on my bare breasts. I couldn't help it: I was getting aroused, and even after I had thoroughly rubbed in the sunblock, getting complete coverage, I still was caressing them. I just didn't feel like stopping. I've touched myself before, I think we all have, but only in my bedroom with the door locked and everyone gone or downstairs. Doing it here, outside, was a lot more exciting.

At some point I closed my eyes. I wasn't sleepy anymore; parts of my body were wide awake... but I was feeling languid, and almost as if I was floating on the water outside instead of here in the chair. The water was warm, the perfect temperature, and all my stress was floating away.

I knew my nipples were hard now, like the tips of my little fingers; I could feel them, now part of the contours of my body, more things to play with. For the first time I started thinking, what if I made myself come, playing like this? I knew exactly how to do this, but I wanted to take my time. At that thought, part of me (my conscience?) was shouting "what are you doing?", but after a while that voice receded, as if drifting out on the water, away from me. I cupped my breasts, fondling them, imaging a guy doing this, like I had been walking around topless for some reason. Maybe in St. Tropez. A guy sees me, wearing nothing but a little thong, and is unable to resist my temptations.

I wanted more. Now my right hand was reaching underneath my fleece shorts; I always left the strings untied, so the waistband stretched easily. While I fondled my breast with the other hand, I reached down between my legs. First my thatch of pubic hair, and I got a thrill out of that: whenever a boy I was with first went there, it was obvious we weren't just making out anymore, things were getting serious. I spread my knees a bit and slunk lower in the seat.

I reached further underneath my shorts, and I found my slit. Of course I was already wet. I teased myself at first, stroking my lips with a gentle fingertip. I cannot exaggerate how good that felt. My palm stroked my mound as my finger drew along my sensitive lips. My nipples seemed even firmer, my breasts taut.

I inserted a finger, and then started getting myself off for real. Looking back, I wonder if I was making some noise which would have been obvious to anyone close enough to hear. But at that point I didn't care about anything but my sense of touch.

The shorts didn't provide any obstacle as I touched myself. But still they were annoying me; I wanted them completely off. I didn't want anything covering me. I guess a small part of me was still thinking practically, because I didn't simply kick them off into the sand. I decided that if I slid them down to my knees, I would still have time to quickly pull them back up and put on my top if someone approached. (My eyes were closed, I wasn't paying attention to the outside world, so that plan didn't make sense, but whatever.) I propped myself up on elbows and toes, and scooched my shorts down to my thighs. I lowered my bare bottom back onto the wooden seat, baked dry by years of sun, but thankfully not scorching hot right then. I slid my shorts down, nearly all the way off; instead of at my knees, I left them around my ankles. Even so, I wished my feet could also be free. But I was too chicken to let go of everything.

Now I was sitting there basically naked, legs spread, being very naughty, not a care in the world. I don't know how long I stayed that way, touching myself like that. I was starting to fantasize about other guys, other situations, but nothing really took hold. Eventually my hunger overpowered my desire to hold back, and I let myself come really hard. I couldn't believe it. The many nights I had sex with my boyfriend (we split up last May), it was never as good as this. I sat there for a long time recovering, letting the sun warm my bare skin. My eyes were shut. My legs were splayed apart. One hand rested on my moist pussy, while the other continued to idly caress my breast, almost on its own.

After my heartbeat slowed down, I opened my eyes, ready to return to the real world.

The beach and the water were full of people.

I sat up, overwhelmed, shocked, and I didn't move for a few moments, stunned. A lot of people were looking directly at me: how much did they see? Everything? I covered my breasts, and then remembered my shorts were down, too. First things first. I hastily pulled my shorts back up, using both hands. People got a few more peeks at my breasts, but I couldn't help that.

Even worse, I could see someone had swam out far beyond the others, and was calling for help!

Oh shit, I thought. How long had he been out there? I had that sinking feeling. I was busted, I was so fired. But my practice and training kicked in and I knew what I would have to do. But first, I'd have to put on my tank top, and I reached for where it should have been, right beside me.

It was gone.

I covered my breasts with one arm and looked around, really trying not to panic, because seconds were ticking by and I needed to go out there immediately. But the top was nowhere to be found! Now I was terrified of going out there, but I knew I had no choice. Someone's life in danger was more important than my comfort, or appearance, or embarrassment. The training had drilled that into us, and fortunately I hadn't forgotten.

I had to climb down the ladder to the sand. My throat went dry. There were a *lot* of people here, and they all could see my bare breasts bobbing as I climbed. I couldn't cover up until I had both feet on the ground. I turned and ran into the surf as fast as I could, looking very silly, hands over my boobs.

I was already so embarrassed I wanted to cry. Maybe I could move to Montana after this. Far away from anyone on this beach or anyone I knew.

When I dove into the water, my shorts instantly soaked up water and became heavy. As I swam, they slid back, baring my bottom and then my thighs, getting dragged down toward my feet! What a stupid idea to wear these clothes here! I would have been better off with a bra and panties. Even if they became see-through when wet, it was still better than losing them altogether!

I stood up in the shallow surf and pulled my shorts back up, aware that I was flashing my bare butt to the entire beach. If people could actually die of shame, I would have dropped right there.

I had already prepared myself for when I had to come back to shore with the guy I was rescuing; people had seen my boobs once, and they would see them again. There was no avoiding that. But to lose my shorts and have to go back there completely naked -- no way could I let that happen. Absolutely no way.

I swam with one hand, holding up my shorts with the other. Much slower going, but fortunately the guy calling for help was still head above water. I finally reached him; he was flailing and spitting water, bobbing in the waves, but not going under. He looked about my age, maybe a few years older. He must have thought he was a better swimmer than he really was. "Don't panic," I shouted as I floated next to him. "I'm going to bring you back to shore. What's your name?"

"Gus," he said, coughing a bit, but he was obviously still breathing fine. He was going to be OK. I felt a little better too; sure I had been embarrassed back at the beach, but here I was saving someone's life. And it sounds a little silly, but at that point it didn't matter what I was wearing. I was going to do a good job and all my training would pay off.

"OK, Gus, come here." I took his arms and he clung to me like a life preserver, arms around me, hands on my back. I don't know if he was expecting a handrail or what, but my bare skin was slippery in the water. His hands were all over my back. Even in his panic, he noticed something was odd. "Are you naked?" he said, as he moved one hand lower to check.

"Never mind that, Gus," I said, reaching back to move his hand away from my ass. "Just stay calm and we'll take you to safety."

He hugged me tightly, squeezing my breasts against his chest. "I don't want to drown," he cried.

"Don't hang on so tight," I said, pushing him away a little bit. "I'm not going to lose hold of you. I need to be able to move to bring you in." He was OK for a little bit but then he panicked and hugged me again, his chin on my shoulder. One of his hand slipped over my bare breast, his finger accidentally tweaking my nipple.

I was starting to lose my confidence and get really annoyed at him. It was more his fault, not mine, that I was out here topless, that tons of people had already seen me as I went in. If he hadn't screwed up I could still be in my chair and no one the wiser. And now, because of him, I'd have to give everyone a peep show all over again when I brought him back. His fault. Damn him for going out farther than he could swim, for not knowing his limits!

A wave took us by surprise and tilted us over, so I was sort of on my back and his face ended up between my breasts, which were now out of the water. I could tell he was fascinated by all this, staring intently at them as I paddled to stay afloat. I needed to get back to upright and get him off my chest. He was staring at my right nipple, still erect from before, and as I was thinking, no, he can't possibly be thinking of that, he put it in his mouth!

"Hey!" I cried, outraged; but he kept going; and with one hand started fondling my other breast. I could not believe this! From the shock, or the sensation of being played with, I no longer had strength or composure to get myself upright, or to fend him off.

I was getting hot. I didn't want to, but sometimes the body doesn't obey the brain. And my body didn't mind as his other hand, which had been on the small of my back, inched downward and underneath my shorts to my butt. During all this, he hadn't said a word. But somehow, part of my mind snapped into gear, and instead of trying to right myself I simply pushed him off. He went under a bit, but then bobbed back up.

"Do that again, and I'll fucking leave you out here!" I yelled, as I cinched up my waterlogged shorts.

"I'm sorry," he said, all innocent looking.

"Now come back, face to face, but at arm's length, and I'll take you in." I paddled over to him and got ready, but then another wave came, and he panicked again. He seemed to want to climb my like a tree and sit atop my shoulders, completely out of the water. He didn't get that far as his hands and feet flailed, trying to get a grip. Unfortunately, one foot got caught in the waistband of my shorts, and pushed it down to my knees.

I screamed again and pushed him away, and reached for my shorts. However, they were now sliding down my calves, just out of reach. I started panicking; I really didn't want to lose the only clothing I had! I brought my legs up to bring the shorts within reach, but instead they slipped farther down, bunching around my ankles. "Come on," I said to myself, bringing my knees to my chest.

I almost had the shorts when another wave came, filling my mouth with salt water, and I had to kick and paddle to stay afloat. Now my shorts just barely hung off one foot. The other foot was completely free! I jammed my feet together to try to keep the shorts from slipping off.

The guy had paddled toward me, and once again tried to climb on top of me. "No!" I yelled, but then I was thrust underwater. I kicked back up to surface, and made sure he was still floating. OK. Now back to getting my shorts on. But at that point my heart sank as my feet were completely free. The shorts had fallen off! I had a guy to bring back to shore, and I was naked!

"Stay there!" I yelled and dove under. I could see drifting sand; some rocks and shells; and the guy's kicking feet; but no shorts. C'mon, where were they? They had to be close by. I ran out of air, had to surface, and dove again. But I couldn't find them. By the time I surfaced again, I was crying. "I hope you're satisfied, you jerk!"

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